Search - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Hector Berlioz, Alexander Borodin :: Boult Conducts the B.B.C. S.O.

Another lesson in conducting and orchestral playing

jean couture | Quebec city - Canada | 11/01/2006

(5 out of 5 stars)

"I know i'm probably biased because among conductors sir Adrian is my fave. This fascinating CD brings together a sample of his earlier material, that is, from his arguably unsurpassed BBC years. As one of the icons in British music he fully deserves the title of `great conductor of the 20th century'. Still, his repertoire extends well beyond the confines of music made by his countrymen and it should be known, for instance, that his Berlioz is every bit as good as his trademark renditions of Elgar.



*An analysis of Boult vis-a-vis modern conducting techniques.*

Boult has been referred to as "a British Toscanini in more sanguine moments". A good point, though in my view Toscanini's fiery motions with the baton were perhaps more in the style of a Barbirolli (some say of Toscanini that "his movements were generally sharp, specific, and elegant"--qualities which also apply to Glorious John). I believe the term "the British Weingartner" could be, perhaps, more to the point; no one will argue, however, that Boult possessed his distinctly individual, fully-ripened `style'. In general, Boult's kind of restraint or reserve is merely apparent in the resulting musical program, though obviously it's imprinted with--if i can call it like that--a `sonic signature' of his own. It must be said, however, that in his younger years Boult's direction was usually tauter and somewhat more electrified than most (though not all) of his later years interpretations of the 1960's-70's. Not that his hand became sluggish with age, his command always of a firm grip, but while his experience continued to grow, his `style' in some ways became more lyrical or reflective with the passage of years. For sure, he never was a "spectacular" conductor: Even at his effervescent debut on the podium he did not try to add unnecessary gimmicks or makeup to a score, leaving the music "speak" with all its own effective powers. I'd say that his idea toward music was not a complicated one, despite all the technical matters; he stuck to his unpretentious creeds but never seemed to dictate at all cost his views to his colleagues.



Typically, his composure and his subtle hand motions had a sort of dignified manner. He personified Englishness. He looked kind of elegant in his black suit: A tall man, typically not moving that much and sometimes slightly leaning ahead--like curving himself in a humble manner--with his left hand waving gently through an imposing sense of control. "Almost all the conductors of the past stood absolutely still," said Adrian Boult, who was old enough to have seen Hans Richter conduct. The emblematic Arturo Toscanini conveyed expression "partly through the tautness of his body and the intensity of the gaze he directed at the musicians". In his economic gestures Boult himself certainly was closer to a Reiner than to a Bernstein. Interestingly, some people say Leif Segerstam's expansive baton technique is quite similar to Sir Adrian Boult's in its clarity and economy. Boult inherited his `style' from legendary conductors such as Richter, Wood or Nikisch. The author Keith Hansen in his tribute to Elgar wrote that "the great German conductor Hans Richter was a great influence on Boult, and from Richter he learned to convey a broad, spanning architectural sense of a piece. When Boult is finished, you always feel you understand what the piece is about." His technique was quite efficient even if at times it might have looked somewhat diffident or a little bumbling.



I checked repeatedly on YouTube a few videos with sir Adrian on the podium (infinitely rare documents) and paid attention to his method. In his career, most of the time Boult was using a long baton: As we can see, thanks to a live footage of Beethoven's violin concerto at the Royal Albert Hall, its length made more than the two-thirds of Oistrakh's violin bow! Many conductors chose the use of a moderately long stick. According to Raymond Holden in his study `The technique of conducting', sir Henry Wood's baton was long (24 inches) and fabricated according to precise requirements. However, Wood's preference was not shared universally: "Herbert von Karajan preferred a short baton, while sir John Barbirolli opted for a stick of moderate length. Some conductors, however, prefer not to use a baton [...] and beat time with bare hands" (ex. Boulez, Stokowski or Mitropoulos, among others). The great Bruno Walter was an advised advocate for the usage of the little wooden stick and so was sir Adrian: In his essay, `Thoughts on Conducting', Boult describes the conductor's baton as a logical prolongment of the body, to some extent, a crucial tool to help communicate clearly and firmly the `instructions' to the orchestra. Eye contact with performers is another matter of particular significance. On that topic, Holden neatly refers to Boult: "Probably the most famous example of a conductor using eye contact to achieve his musical objectives was Arthur Nikisch. [...] Sir Adrian Boult also commented on Nikisch's use of the eye [...]". For all purposes, the `mesmerizing' style of Nikisch has little (or nothing) to do with hypnosis, but rather with a practical technique and methods on workable means of expression. In his essay 'The Man with the Baton' (Crowell, 1936), author David Ewen remarked that "it was Adrian Boult who admirably commented that a conductor, in his direction, should appeal to the eyes of his orchestra and to the ears of his audience." As Zubin Mehta once pointed out, the conductor "is often the only person aware of the entire expanse of a given work - orchestral players usually learn only their own parts - and must know exactly where he is going so he can guide the music and plan its climaxes accordingly." Different conductors will, of course, have different opinions. The more "corporeal" type of conductor who produces brisks motions and almost frantic hand wavering will probably get different effects from his opposite by way of distinct means: Some will dance, like caught in a sort of trance, while others--such as the great Furtwangler's rather bizarre convulsion--will seem to move about clumsily like a drunkard. There is no recipe for success in the re-creation of music, for each individual has his own ideas and will eventually develop his personal way.



Conductor Vernon Handley, who passed away in 2008, "was one of the best-loved of conductors and a great champion of British orchestral music; a protege of Sir Adrian Boult, he was renowned for holding fast to two principles - an undemonstrative technique and unfashionable repertoire. Like Boult's, Handley's conducting action was minimal. He used an unusually long baton that he controlled with remarkable agility. 'It's all in the stick, just watch' was one of his favourite phrases." We can conclude with Bruce Phillips of Boydell and Brewer, indie music book publishers from the U.K., that "Tod inherited Boult's preference (which Boult had inherited from Nikisch) for long conducting batons and for communicating his intentions through the end of the stick rather than through exaggerated bodily gestures." I think it interesting to quote one commentator's perceptive remarks in reply to an article for the site guardian.co.uk, 'Conductors and their batons, does size matter?': "Originally, batons were intended to serve as extensions of the right hand of the leader or conductor. This had to do with the increasingly large forces used by composers during the 19th century and the need for the conductor to make his or her intentions clear to the players. Of course, batons are pretty useful for operatic productions, where the conductor must keep together rather large and far-flung forces from a great distance. Yes, there have been excesses regarding the length of batons. The case of Boult is one that is especially apt, though I think the fact that he was expert at making his intentions known to orchestras while avoiding any undue mishaps should also be considered. But I don't think that most recent conductors would use a stick as large as the one Boult used, though I also doubt whether many would begrudge Boult his personal choices in this matter. In the final analysis, what is most important are the results one is able to get, stick or not. As long as the results are first-rate, who cares?"



Two important books on the subject are Max Rudolf's `Grammar of Conducting' (1950) and Hermann Scherchen's eminent `Handbook of Conducting' (1933). Scherchen explains: "The art of conducting is governed by the fact that the conductor's instrument is a live one, consisting of a number of performers playing a number of different instruments. The conductor's task is to make this complex machine serve the art of music. [...] As he is playing upon a live instrument, he must understand not only the laws of his art, but also the idiosyncrasies of this instrument; he will find perforce that he has to form a higher and more spiritual conception of these laws in consequence." He also rightly insists that "...more than any other artist, the conductor must be a mastermind, with an imagination capable of conceiving and materializing a musical image. Only when a work has come to absolute perfection within him can he undertake to materialize it by means of the orchestra." In `The Cambridge Companion to Conducting' (edited by Jose Antonio Bowen, Cambridge University Press, 2003) some further interesting points can be retrieved: "For Boult, like [Sir Henry] Wood, the baton was central to his art... [...] Boult emulated Nikisch's use of the `long stick' throughout his career. But his baton technique was only one aspect of [his] wide executive ability. Bernard Shore, who was principal viola under Boult, praised his quick assimilation of scores in every kind of idiom. He knows how to find his way about quickly [...] and organizes both other people and himself, smoothly and without fuss or agitation; although his repertory covers the whole realm of orchestral music, he conducts most of the well-known works from memory."



Dr. Teresa Marrin Nakra (Immersion Music), a specialist in her domain formed at the M.I.T., makes it clear that "conducting is a mature form that has developed over 250 years and has an established, documented technique. The gesture language of conducting is understood and practiced by many musicians, and is commonly used as a basis for evaluating the skill and artistry of conductors." She also remarks that "Sir Adrian Boult wrote about the baton as an extension of the hand" in `A Handbook on the Technique of Conducting': "Properly used, the stick is simply an extra joint, a lengthening of the arm. It follows that in cases where the stickless conductor would use the whole forearm for a gesture, with his wrist at some 20 inches from his chest, the conductor with a stick can achieve the same result with his arm practically still and his wrist 4 or 5 inches from the chest. The stick, like the gearbox of a motor car, will save a great deal of energy provided it is properly used." In another section of his book, Boult praised the technique of another conductor by stating that "the late Arthur Nikisch, whose ease in controlling the stick was most remarkable, seemed to hold his stick as an elongation of his thumb: it almost looked as if they were tied together" (Ref.: T. M. Nakra; `Inside the Conductor's Jacket: Analysis, Interpretation and Musical Synthesis of Expressive Gesture'). It all seems to concur with the words of David Ewen in 'The Man with the Baton', when speaking about the use of the stick: "The celebrated English conductor, Adrian C. Boult, has been an example to many conductors. It seemed part of himself, and appeared to grow out of his thumb as if made of flesh and blood." Sometimes referred to as a "magic wand" for conductors, the stick (or bare hand) in its usage becomes an integral part of the orchestra, if not always fully understood. As notes Tom Service on guardian.co.uk, "...we're talking about a stick of wood or fibreglass, maybe with some additional cork and metal, cut to a length to suit the physique of the individual maestro. It's not exactly rocket science. But there is a cultural history of the conducting baton..." We could affirm that a sort of "mystique" has been developed around this through the end of the 20th century. Leonard Bernstein's comments on the subject are likewise fascinating: "If the conductor uses a baton, the baton itself must be a living thing, charged with a kind of electricity, which makes it an instrument of meaning in its tiniest movement. If he does not use a baton, his hands must do the job with equal clarity. But baton or no baton, his gestures must be first and always meaningful in terms of the music."



*A tribute to Boult the man and the artist.*

What do i like most in Sir Adrian Boult? To me, his foremost quality was/is his profound, sincere respect of the composers he admired or thought worthy of his interest. Technical stuff aside, Boult's great qualities of hard work and perseverance are still an inspiration for any young maestro in the learning. He did not impose his views over the music of others, a thing--to be wholly honest--not commonly seen nowadays. I must admit that i like a lot many maestros of today--from Vanska to Dudamel--but will always return to the trailblazing artisans of the past, from Nikisch to Boult amidst many others... With certainty, Adrian Boult brought an invaluable contribution, in his own way, to develop and modernize the art of conducting--thanks notably to his countless years at the service of music, whether on a recording or in the concert hall. The man was also a scholar in his domain (to use a popular word we'd say he was a specialist). He was not the greatest arts' man of his generation but he was certainly one of the most brilliant, while remaining one of the most discreet individuals. Just try to imagine a man who literally "vanishes" before the music (though, thank God, not in front of the audience--like a Houdini) so much so his personality is devoid of superfluous habits... Don't get me wrong! This man was a strict technician, after all, a music lover who believed in the virtues of frequent rehearsals and thorough study of the score. And as much as he recognized the value of amateur performances, he did not accept a botched realization from the part of professional artists. As a conductor he was not the "amiable tyrant" some people will undoubtedly identify in a few imperious maestros of the past and present day (i won't mention their names). His humanity and wit were said to be delightful features of his otherwise reserved but always gentlemanly, courteous character. As far as we know, sir Adrian was much appreciated by his fellows and well respected in his community. Almost unanimously composers and musicians liked him and, for many persons, he wasn't only the great conductor we know--he was the kind of man you would've liked to share lifelong friendship with.



*Boult and the BBC.*

This fine Dutton disc offers splendid examples of the vintage BBC years of sir Adrian Boult. Dutton Vocalion have released a splendid number here, for this collection (first volume) offers uniformly good, well-played music with honest sound quality. The Berlioz Overtures were recorded in 1936. Boult's Berlioz is especially excellent and, to some extent, recalls the young Monteux. King Lear has sure-fire luminescence; the BBC players deliver a lively and powerful sound. By the way, Michael Dutton's remastering job is awesome. The 32nd Symphony (Overture) is a small Mozartian bijou which Boult and the BBC do not attempt to turn into the futile crowd-pleaser it isn't. In its sincerity, that's a rewarding performance. The overture to Cosi fan tutte proves that Boult's Mozart was as fine and effective as Beecham's in his heyday. Berlioz's Les francs juges is quite a bit somber but here Boult doesn't fail as well and smartly maintains the tension throughout (the tone evokes the Symphonie Fantastique). The BBC pulls the hell out of it; what a great reading it is! The Overtures by Mendelssohn are noteworthy, in particular The Hebrides - written during and after a trip to Scotland in 1829. As prof. Geoff Kuenning remarks in his notes on Mendelssohn, "The most striking aspect of this overture is it's successful tone-painting. We can hear the breaking of the waves, almost see the basalt columns and strange colors, and above all experience the overwhelming vastness of the cavern. Many composers, before and since, have used music to depict the physical world, but in Fingal's Cave, Mendelssohn set an example that has never been equaled." Borodin's Marche Polonaise flows with bravura and boldness. The opening to Ruy Blas shows why the BBC S.O.'s brass had no equal in England. They had a mighty and dignified sound, with a sort of `golden' quality to it. The classic 1945 Boult/BBC recording of the Planets is yet another great example of this. The Auber is an outstanding piece and here as well Boult and the BBC show cohesion and adeptness in their handling of melodic structures. Gustav Holst's Scherzo is a rarity which we have here the chance to listen in this exemplary 1944 recording. Sir Adrian Boult is a worthy successor of Henry Wood as regards clarity of textures and concentration. The BBC's sound was immediate, taut and muscular while keeping sufficient room for the softest passage. On this disc each work sparkles with energy and rarely heard intensity. To quote Laurence Vitte of Audiophile Audition, "the sheer integrity of the readings, achieved through a surprisingly urgent simplicity of phrasing lends the music a direct power that speaks from the heart. The best examples of this are the two Berlioz overtures, the Hebrides Overture of Mendelssohn and a previously unpublished recording of the rarely-heard Scherzo from an unfinished symphony of Gustav Holst". For its substance and various qualities the present CD i 100% recommend, with no reserve."